Drunk Wizard Novels & Stories

Quickstep signed as he finally gave up after three hours of thinking. "You can choose specialization for the wizard class, host." The system reminded Quickstep. "Hahaha! I almost forgot about that. I want a healer wizard. Hehehe." Quickstep instructed the system. "Affirmative host." The system replied to Quickstep. 1% 2% 3% 99% 100% complete Host: Quickstep Replicated Form: Wizard Doctor (Tier D Early Stage) Abilities: Augmented Regenerative Ability, Healing Magic Estimated Power: 15,000 stars

"My father said…" The leader of the Wizards stood tall, his pale face tilted upward with arrogance, as though the world itself were beneath his feet. His voice echoed with a tone that sliced through the tension in the air, sharp and unsettling. "Witches are the hunters of Wolves and Vampires. The most thrilling moment of a wizard’s life is to make a stew from their blood… and drink them." He chuckled, a slow, rotten sound that sent a ripple of discomfort across our group. His sunken eyes scanned us, predatory and gleaming with amusement.

replied Rick. He was asked to accompany the three of them when they were done eating. They led him to a small garden with vibrant flowers. “My name is Darius. This is Hector and this Agatha” said the man named Darius as he pointed at the other man and the woman. He was the one that had spoken to Rick when he arrived yesterday. “ May I know your name and how we may help you?” continued the man. “ My name is Rick Jordan and I am a wizard from the Hearthstone coven” Rick introduced himself.

The old man smiled like a cat who’d already swallowed the canary and was licking cream from his whiskers “Name’s Caedrin wizard wanderer collector of rare and broken things” His gaze slid past her sharp as broken glass to the second rider thundering up the road through curtains of rain Kaelin soaked to the bone hood ripped back by the wind silver hair plastered to her skull Across her saddlebow lay Lyra—still unconscious head lolling blue-silver veins crawling up her throat like living frost. They glowed faintly beneath skin gone nearly translucent lips almost black. Each shallow breath looked borrowed like the next one might be refused

+20 abyssal force] [Wizard sub-role unlocked!] [Wizard: Scholars that study the magic forces and seek the guidance of the Abyssal will. +10 Abyssal force. +1 Intelligence.] [Note: A Wizard will refuse to research technology, and researchers will refuse to study magic.] [You can aid your wizards creating spells using the Path tab] "Great! Magic at last!" David celebrated the small victory and immediately pressed the Path tab, but he couldn't create any new spells yet. "Guess i have to wait for them to start creating something."

His magic was pissed and wanted to save its mate but needed more time to heal Michael and clear a vein in his hand so I could get the blood I needed. Drax watched as others watched from outside the barrier of the room and the looks of fascination on their faces got me every time. Once I retrieved the blood, we left the room and walked back to the room designated for spells. Marsha and I mixed his blood with the potion and we started the spell, and while doing the spell we heard a loud thud and Drax was passed out on the floor. We stopped to see if he was okay, and I smiled to myself, and said, "He will be fine, he needs a little rest," before returning to my chanting, winking my eye at her.

“You need to survive long enough to ruin him. The words settled heavily inside me... ruined him. My gaze lingered on Draco’s face again despite myself. I remembered the exact way he looked beneath the flashing police lights outside the cathedral earlier. Completely calm and untouched, like death meant nothing to him. He was a monster but monsters still bled, didn’t they? Salvatore stepped toward the monitors and pressed several keys against the console. New files immediately appeared across the screens... financial records, political connections, surveillance reports, photographs of luxury estates and blood-covered crime scenes. Draco’s entire life laid open before me like pieces of a puzzle

With a sweep of his sword, the skeletons went into a million pieces. "What are you?" the wizard appeared from the darkness of the surrounding wall. He lifted up his arms; a large wooden staff shaped as a dragon, appeared in his hand. Albin rolled. The wizard casted a fireball, Albin made a shield with his hand. The fireball went in the opposite direction. The wizard moved, Albin casted a fireball. The wizard was slow to react. He fell to the floor. Albin walked forward, lifter his sword and with all his strength drew it through the wizard's chest. The tip of the sword went through the floor.

Tristan warned, his senses on high alert. Their footsteps echoed through the corridors, a symphony of determination. In the heart of the stronghold, a figure waited— Ravenswood, Archon Xantos’ sorcerer. Before the warriors understood what was happening, Ravenswood threw magical potions in the air, their darkness spreading fast among the warriors. "Victory is mine," Ravenswood declared, his voice dripping with malice like venom from a snake's fangs. The sound echoed through the stronghold's cold stone corridors, mingling with the stench of sweat, blood, and despair.